Approaching Complete
by scullyseviltwin
Summary: It wasn't perfect, not really. It was something really amazing, but it wasn't perfect. It wasn't perfect because perfect wasn't possible and this feeling, this sensation was all too real.


This felt Cathartic to write... don't know why. One more final and I'm done for the YEAR! I don't want to be a junior in college... eh, grad school here I come to escape the real world for a few more years. Thanks Marlou for the beta even though you didn't want to. Thank you Laur for liking this.

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It felt like insects were tickling her skin. Somewhere on the edge of sleep and wake, Sara swatted at her shoulder and snuggled back down under the covers. Moments later, the tickling began again and she wondered if perhaps her arm had fallen to sleep. "Nuh," she moaned and rolled onto her back but didn't bother opening her eyes.

Damn sensations interrupting a perfectly blissful sleep.

The tickling was soon replaced by a soft wetness, delicate and arousing, and her eyes fluttered open at the gentleness of it. Yes, yes that was nice. Very nice indeed.

"Finally, you're awake," her bedfellow grumbled and kissed the slight curvature of her shoulder. She could swear she felt her freckles blush at the loveliness of it.

Her eyes were narrow, slits and if she hadn't just awoken he would have thought that her look was a glare. "Mmm," she hid her surprise at finding him in her bed rather well. "Mmm, why are you... why you wake me up?"

Grissom smiled and breathed out a sigh still laden with sleepy breath and tinged at the very end with a slight air of love (or something like it). "You've been asleep for nine hours."

That snapped her to attention. "Nine hours!"

He nodded, placing a warm hand on her arm, amazed at how very perfectly it fit. The color, the contrast. Not perfect in general, but it was to him and his heart squeezed and he didn't bother to think of the past or the future, just this moment. He needed to kiss her skin again, so he did, finding that inhibition was an archaic term in his newfound dictionary.

"Griss?"

"Mmm?" He wasn't paying attention to her words and he felt sorry about that, but he was too intent on taking in the warm glow of her skin in the morning. A glorious day off, impossible but stolen. Yes, he'd called in and claimed illness just to discover how her flesh caught the light at ten twenty-three in the morning.

Sara smiled and visions of the awkward and tender night before slid back to her. Oh god, she just knew it would be this good, it had to be. "C'mere."

He rolled over and kissed her slowly. Morning breath was forgotten as his tongue stroked hers and she accepted it all and he back. They had hours to brush their teeth. They had hours to make love but they had the morning as well. After all, how many mornings could they capture in such perfection?

It was more of a good morning kiss than anything and she savored it, actually reminding herself to hang onto the moment. The first 'good morning' kiss in all its tainted glory. Somehow, she was sure that kiss captured a fraction of his soul and Sara catalogued it away, giddy with the acquisition.

The night previous was exquisite, only because it wasn't. In actuality it was awkward physically but so very, insanely perfect emotionally. They'd laughed a lot, especially when he was unable to remove her bra in haste. In all honestly her breasts were of no consequence to her; as long as he was inside her the world was perfect and she had told him so. He had made fun of her, quoted something or other (she'd smacked his bicep) and said that all women enjoyed their breasts kissed.

Sara had blushed-she still couldn't remember why-and told him that there was so much time for that later. The grin that was plastered on his face ran a low thrill though her body as she kissed him again.

Neither of them wondered what would happen afterwards, or in the morning.

It amazed amazed both of them that it all worked out.

On top of her, still kissing, he marvelled (in the back of his mind of course because he was preoccupied with the softness of her lips) how easily he fit in the dip of her thighs. Perfection? Well, maybe, but neither of them really liked the word perfect. Each of them was using it randomly throughout their thoughts and it startled them to a small degree.

There was no such thing as perfection but they could pretend.

She reached down and slipped him inside of her on a little sigh. "Ahh, good morning," she whispered and he dropped a semblance of a kiss on her lips and moved.

Grissom was tired, partly because his internal clock was screwed up and partly because he'd spent half of the night watching her sleep. She wasn't gorgeous, wasn't beautiful, wasn't... anything. She was something else and it made his heart swell because now, now, she was his, simply his.

Nine hours. She'd slept nine hours solidly with him beside her and had forgotten that he was there. 'Never again,' she vowed, knowing inevitably that there would be an again. And an again and an again…

His tongue lapped at her ear gently, perfect for the hour and she gasped and clutched him, loved him so badly that she wanted to sob. But it wasn't the time. The moment was too... something. "Feels like I've been... been, doing this forever."

She was confused, but touched because he was able to speak to her, truly speak to her, eyes locked.

"With you, god, it's so easy honey," he clarified and she swelled again and a sob broke free. She wanted to chastize herself for being so very cliché and sad in a moment of utter passion, but he smiled brightly and moved in her with a purpose. She too smiled and swallowed the tears. There was no need for them now. The euphoria overtook the astonishment that he was indeed there with her. No tears, oh no.

She promised herself she wouldn't. As well as she knew him, she didn't know what her tears would do to him. A sob broke free of her careful facade and she felt tons lighter. She did it again, louder and clutched along his back somewhere and mumbled something about loving him. It was severely incoherent.

"God, Sara, never ever again." He kissed her so gently while thrusting into her so hard that she wondered what was going on. He had his insecurities to be sure, but he was laying them bare and she was oh so grateful.

Two adults, one nearly fifty, the other past her prime, both diving back into the realm of first love. Exquisite, but not perfect. And that was just fine because exquisite wore a thin veneer of perfect and neither one of them could tell the difference.

None of it really mattered. Beauty was forgotten, as was sex and passion. For some reason, both of them acknowledged the foreign emotion of love and gave in so effortlessly that it was easy. The slide together was so easy-so real- that he did it again and again and clutched onto her as if he were to lose her in the next moment even though he knew so deep down that he wouldn't.

His mind toyed with him and he could imagine her wanton and laid out, a naked banquet on his bed. Yes, he could see her in the shower, lathering up with his shampoo. In the kitchen, eating rice that he had taken care to cook or her cooking for him in return. A perfect cotton blend slipping on her body, a shirt of his, proudly proclaiming 'Sosa' on the back although he knew she loved the Red Sox.

And he could see himself making coffee for her, just the way she liked it. Renting videos, rubbing her back and doing nothing after but falling to asleep, not in each others arms, but draped across the bed comfortably and securely... routinely.

The night previous, he hadn't been sure that being with her was the right decision even if he knew that loving her was. But when he connected with her that first time he'd had to choke back a sob, as un-masculine as that sounded. The color behind his eyes was the closest thing to white that he'd even seen. Then he'd opened his eyes and saw her face... rapture and pain and knew that there was no other place on the planet where he felt so very at home.

So he moved in her now, slow and secure, wanting to move faster but knowing that they both needed the slow pace.

Sara almost wished she was drunk if just to be able to place why she was so damned dizzy. Lost in his touch she kissed him again, harder than he'd dared yet and he'd pressed forward, eliciting a cry from her that shook her teeth.

Sara, having only experienced him once, was still shocked when the burst of pleasure overtook her, rocking her in such a way that she was sure she was losing some of herself to him. Her thighs simply clenched and he opened his eyes beautifully wide, captured her bliss in his gaze, catalogued it and allowed himself to let go.

Not perfect. Something more.

Their breathing was erratic in the warm glow of morning.

They still clung to each other as they came down. Sweat clung to home just as securely as their hands clenched together and smiles were nearly automatic.

Grissom looked into her eyes, seeing her as Sara Sidle, the flawed, strange, smart woman that he had met so many years before. And she, well she looked at him and saw the first man she'd truly been drawn to.

A miracle? Maybe, but probably not.

And Grissom leaned over and kissed her lips with the sort of purpose she knew he possessed.

"Good morning," he murmured and wrapped an arm around her wrist, not her waist and their breaths synchronized for a moment.

Not perfect, but damn near.


End file.
